Broken and Unbroken
by yayhodr
Summary: John Mitchell has a list of rules that he won't break. Rule number one? Don't. Fall. In. Love. But it's funny how a drunken one night stand that should have meant nothing leads to a series of interactions with a person that he seems to keep coming back to changes almost all of them. Anders Johnson just has that affect on people. Britchell.


**Chapter 1: One Night**

John Mitchell had a list of things that he regretted, and a list of things that he had sworn never to do again. The first list was much longer than the second and the second was a direct result of the first, but since he had moved to New Zealand, they had become, in essence, his religion.

He had sworn never to do again was use sex as a weapon. Of course, that was easier said than done, so his sexual encounters were limited to vampires. And as he was avoiding the vampires in New Zealand to avoid, drinking human blood, his sexual encounters were limited to his hand. Rule number one, even more important than those two, however, was simple enough- don't fall in love. ever.

He wasn't sure why he had chosen New Zealand to run to. He knew that the originals wouldn't come to New Zealand, or at least, Herrick had always said so. He also knew it was beautiful, but that wasn't a very good reason to move to a country. Maybe, in his haze after leaving Honolulu Heights for the last time, New Zealand had been the first thing he had seen at the airport. Or maybe, it was just where he was supposed to end up. Either way, he couldn't complain. He had gone 7 months without killing, or causing anyone else grief, and he was fine. A completely different Mitchell, maybe- be he was fine.

He was sure that if Annie and George and even Nina could see him, they would be furious with him. He had become a shadow of the former person that he was, allowing his regrets and guilt to consume him. He made no friends, rarely talking to anyone except for Megan, the girl living in the apartment next door, who seemed to have a thing for him. John Mitchell was not the laid back, charismatic guy that he had always been, nor was he the nightmare in shining armor that he had appeared to be. He was just existing, and feeling like he was waiting for something to happen, although he didn't know what.

* * *

Going out for drinks had been Megan's idea, and almost her insistence. She knew of a "quiet little bar that has just shifted to new management," that she seemed to think would suit Mitchell, who she seemed to think was just shy and withdrawn. He wasn't quite sure why he had agreed to her pleas to go out for a drink, but sure enough, he had.

Megan was naïve, only 20 years old, and didn't seem to have any warning signals telling her to run from Mitchell, and fast. In fact, he kind of worried about the girl, she was just a little too trusting and he of all people knew that the world was fucked up. Perhaps, he thought, she had, in a way, become a replacement for George and Annie, who he had always felt a need to protect. That was the only reason he could give himself as to why he had agreed to go out and get wasted with her, to make sure she didn't end up getting hurt. Call it his good deed for the day.

The bar, however, was a pleasant surprise to Mitchell. It was warm, and inviting, and not very crowded. Except for the bartender, a group of 20-somethings, and a trio of men in the corner, who seemed to be arguing about something, there was no one in the bar. It was just enough that Megan would leave him alone about being antisocial for a while, but quiet enough that he was fairly sure that he wouldn't rip anyone's throat out.

"That man hasn't stopped staring at you since we got here," Megan announced, sitting down with a beer bottle in each hand. She slid one across to him, and smiled softly.

"Which man?" Mitchell twisted around to see what she was talking about.

"The blonde one, with a beard. He's sitting with the bald guy and the dark haired one," Megan said. "He reminds me of this guy that my older sister brought around one time, but we never saw him again after that," she said with a shrug, flicking long brunette hair back behind her ear.

"I'm sure he's just curious," Mitchell shrugged.

"Maybe he wants to make friends," Megan said, with a smile. "You should go talk to him. It's not healthy to sit in your apartment all the time except when you're working and brood," she reasoned. "I would go mad if I did that," she added. "I'm fairly sure you don't even eat regularly because I never see you bringing food home, and I know you don't go out for take away three times a day," she mused under her breath.

"I'm not here to make friends," Mitchell muttered.

"Well, I'm here to make you friends," Megan decided, turning around and making a face as the blond man. "Besides, he's kind of cute. And you're obviously not into me. Maybe he's more your type," she decided, as if that was that, and waved at the man.

"Christ- Megan, I'm not gay!"

"You don't have to label yourself if you don't want to. It doesn't matter anyways, this is the twenty first century. Unless you're super religious to the point of it being ridiculous, you can sleep with whomever as long as you both consent," Megan informed him, still making heart eyes at the man, who seemed to be surveying her.

"Megan-"

"Come on, Mitchell, Just have a little fun," Megan urged. "Look, he's coming over," she said, quickly turning around. Mitchell raised an eyebrow as the blond man strode over, as his companions seemed to look both put upon and slightly amused at the same time.

The man said nothing at first, taking a seat next to Mitchell. "Well, hello," he finally said with a grin. "Are you two a couple?" he inquired.

"Oh, no," Megan grinned. "We're neighbors," she explained, with a bright smile. "I'm Megan Lloyd, and this is John Mitchell," she introduced. "But call him Mitchell, or he'll look at you like that," she said, jabbing a finger towards Mitchell, who had turned to glare at her. "But he looks at me that at least once a day, so I just ignore it,"

The man laughed slightly, eyeing Mitchell. "I'm Anders Johnson," he said with a slight smile.

Megan coughed. "I'm going to go smoke," she announced, grabbing Mitchell's pack of cigarettes and lighter off the table.

"You don't even smoke!" Mitchell called after her, exasperated.

"It's never too late to try, Gloom and Doom!" she called, sauntering out of the bar. Mitchell put his face in both hands, shaking it slightly. She was entirely too much.

Anders laughed. "She's interesting," he noted, watching her leave, followed out by Anders' companions. "And now, we're alone," he grinned. "How about we get out of here, just you and me," he said, his voice sounding strange.

"I don't even know you," Mitchell informed Anders, as brief confusion flashed over his face before it became neutral again. However, he was slightly intrigued- Anders was definitely not a vampire, but his blood also definitely did not entice Mitchell like Megan's did. Anders was sitting close to Mitchell, and Mitchell didn't even have the urge for even a drop of blood. He felt calm- totally _calm_

Anders looked flustered. "Well, what do you want to know? I have three brothers and a cousin who likes to eat all my food, I'm run a PR Company, and I'm 30," he said, with a shrug. "What about you? You're obviously not from New Zealand, what brings you to this fine country?"

"I'm just kind of running from my past, I guess. I don't want to talk about it," he said softly.

Anders opened his mouth, and then nodded, deciding against arguing, apparently. "How old are you?" he finally pressed.

"24," Mitchell gave. At least, when he had been turned into a vampire, he had only been a month away from his 24th birthday. "I work at the hospital, I'm an orderly" he added, sensing that Anders would ask that next.

Ander grinned. "See, now we know each other," he said with a grin. "So, we can go to my apartment. I have better piss there anyways. And it's free. You'd think my brother being the owner, I'd get it for free," he added, under his breath.

"I really can't," Mitchell said, although, for some reason he couldn't fathom, he really did want to.

* * *

Somehow, and Mitchell wasn't sure how, he ended up at Anders' apartment after shoving Megan into a taxi cab as she was clearly tipsy and getting a promise from Anders that he would drive him back to his car in the morning. Anders seemed to have a very persuasive personality, almost as if he knew exactly how to get what he wanted from people. He was probably a great publicist, or whatever it was he did to do with PR, Mitchell mused, looking around the apartment that Anders had brought him to.

They were sitting on the couch, some cheesy movie on the television in the background. Anders was drunkenly hanging upside down on the couch, and Mitchell was watching him with amusement, both of them laughing. Beer bottles were strewn all over, and Mitchell had lost count of how many beers either of them had managed to drink.

And then, suddenly, Anders sat up, and kneeled on the couch. He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Mitchell's. The kiss was sloppy, and drunken, and left Mitchell wanting more when Anders pulled away. And to Mitchell's surprise, there was still no trigger to attack Anders. Even his drunken mind knew that Anders' _wasn't human. _Not completely anyways.

But it didn't matter, because now Anders was kissing Mitchell's neck, and it felt better than anything Mitchell had ever felt. Normally, Mitchell tried not to let anyone near his neck, knowing how deadly it could be, and if he wasn't drunk, he probably wouldn't let a near stranger that close, but it was a good thing he was drunk. Mitchell moaned softly, a hand ghosting up the back of Anders' shirt, pressing Anders closer to him.

Anders moved back up to Mitchell's lips, roughly pushing Mitchell backwards until Anders was on top of Mitchell, both of their lips locked together. It was just as sloppy, and drunken, but there was a fire behind this kiss, one that Mitchell wasn't sure if he had experienced in even his most passionate experiences. He almost thought this one kiss was better than any sex he had ever had.

Anders, despite being several inches shorter, seemed to be quite dominating, and Mitchell was okay with letting him dominate, both for fear of attacking Anders, and because it felt good. He hadn't done anything just because it felt good in such a long time, and at first, he didn't know what to do as Anders' hips rutted against his. Mitchell responded to the action, almost shyly at first, and then stronger as the kisses got deeper.

Mitchell's hands moved down Anders body, gripping Anders hips softly, tugging at the waist of his jeans, nails scratching lightly at Anders hips. Anders responded by grinding their hips together lightly, lips trailing down Mitchell's neck. Mitchell groaned and arched his back up, hooking a long leg around Anders. He tugged at Anders' shirt, and Anders quickly tugged it off, before his hands moved to finger the buttons on Mitchell's shirt, drunkenly popping a button off before figuring them out and pulling it open. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," Anders slurred.

"You are too," Mitchell supplied, leaning up as best he could and kissing Anders shoulder. Anders moaned loudly, and pressed his face against Mitchell's chest, apparently took drunk and turned on to do anything coherent or- well_, normal_. Still, Anders could do things with his tongue, which was currently tracing circles around the base of Mitchell's neck, Anders' teeth just barely grazing his collar bone.

Mitchell's hands found their way under Anders' jeans, resting between the jeans and Anders' boxers, gripping slightly. A long, guttural moan tore itself from Anders' throat, and Anders moved back to kiss Mitchell again, this kiss long, and passionate as their tongues danced around each other.

Mitchell moved to push Anders' jean away, but Anders caught hold of Mitchell's wrists then, pinning them over his head. Mitchell groaned, not sure why that was as hot as it was to his drunken mind, and then cried out as Anders palmed him through his jeans with his free hand.

After another long, frenzied kiss, Ander pulled away with a moan. "It seems such a shame to jut limit this to kissing when I've got a big, empty bed in the other room," he said, his voice not as slurred as it had been before. He listened for a second. "I think it's calling us," he said with a slight smirk, gasping as Mitchell leaned forward and kissed his neck. "It would be a shame to deny my bed the chance to have you in it," he finished.

"Shut up, you loon, you've got me here, you don't need to sweet talk me," Mitchell murmured.

Anders grinned. "and I am so glad I did," he said, and with a swift movement, he was tugging Mitchell up off the couch, still holding both Mitchell's wrists in his.

It was chaotic for a while after that, as neither one seemed to be able to go more than 20 seconds without shoving the other against something, or pressing a sloppy kiss to another part of the other one. Mitchell shoved Anders against the counter for a few seconds, before Anders managed to gain dominance again and push Mitchell against the fridge with a thud. Mitchell managed to unbutton Anders' jeans, and Anders stepped out of them. Mitchell's jeans went next, thrown over the back off the couch.

They stumbled their way to Anders' bedroom, shoving each other against the wall, lips never breaking contact for more than a few seconds, until the back of Mitchell's knees met Ander' bed and they both tumbled onto it, landing in a heap. They were tangled together; their lips still locked together, a jumble of tangled limbs and messed up hair as they kissed each other.

Anders rolled them both over, pushing his leg between Mitchell's, hovering over Mitchell for a brief moment as he traced a finger over Mitchell's chest. Mitchell's hands moved along Anders' bare back, and even in his drunken state, Mitchell relished in the feel of warm, smooth skin beneath his fingers. Anders' head bent and he bit down at Mitchell's shoulder, and Mitchell cried out as his fingers dug into Anders' back. Anders made a strangled, gasping noise that vibrated from deep within his throat.

One of Anders' hands traced along Mitchell's body slowly until he found the waist of Mitchell's boxers and hooked his finger under them, gently tugging them down. With Anders caught off guard, Mitchell flipped them over, grinning as Anders yelped in surprise. Apparently the blond had been expecting Mitchell to be pliant and submissive, a fair assumption, as until them, he had been. "I love a challenge," Anders muttered, drawing a laugh from Mitchell.

Mitchell kissed his way down Anders' body, smirking as Anders gasped and groaned with every touch. He inhaled when Anders tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging gently. He pressed a soft kiss to Anders' hip, dragging his tongue along Anders' stomach to the other one as Anders whined slightly.

Deciding that he had tortured Anders for long enough, Mitchell latched his teeth onto the waist of Anders' boxers and gently tugged them down, smirking softly as Anders inhaled sharply. "Fuck. Fuck, that's hot. Fuck," Anders gasped, his hips jerking up and almost knocking Mitchell, who hadn't been expecting the sudden, sharp movement.

Mitchell caught his balance, laughing softly. Anders groaned in frustrating, his fingers still tangled in Mitchell's hair. He gently tugged Mitchell back up to him, kissing him again, their arms wrapping around each other as Anders flipped them over again. Mitchell whined in frustration as Anders let go of him, pinning his hands over his head again.

Anders fumbled in the bedside drawer with one hand, a dopey grin spreading across his face when he felt Mitchell move beneath him. After a bit of fumbling, his fingers found what he was looking for and he drew them from the drawer with a victorious little sound.

"What's that?" Mitchell asked.

"I can't fuck you dry, now can I?" Anders responded.

Mitchell opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Anders' lips met his again, and all thoughts of protest left his mind. He vaguely heard a bottle opening, and then gasped slightly when he felt one of Anders' fingers pressed into him. "Hey, you've got to relax, I know it hurts," Anders said softly. His finger disappeared, and all of his weight vanished. "I'm going to flip you over now, as much as I enjoy your face, I really don't want to hurt you," he announced, and then Mitchell gasped as he was flipped over.

Anders' finger pressed into Mitchell again, and Mitchell moaned, gasping as Anders kissed one of his shoulder blades, and then the other. Mitchell titled his head up and they kissed, softly at first and then deeply, Anders' tongue scraping along Mitchell's teeth gently and then Mitchell's teeth gently tugging at Anders' lips, the two of them lost in the kiss for a good, long while.

And then, Anders' gently pushed another finger, and then bit down on Mitchell's shoulder. Mitchell cried out, his hips jerking into the bed, and Anders smirked, sucking around the place that he had just bitten.

Anders inserted one last finger, this time, simply tugging Mitchell's head towards him by his hair, kissing him almost too roughly, but Mitchell's intoxicated mind found the roughness almost more arousing then anything that had happened previously. Anders let go of Mitchell's hair, and using his now free hand, rubbed circles on Mitchell's back for an agonizing long time, as if he had forgotten what he was doing and had become enamored Mitchell's back.

"Stop fucking around," Mitchell growled, and Anders made a noise of agreement, and pulled his fingers out of him. After a little bit of rustling around behind him, a condom wrapper was tossed past Mitchell's head and he felt Anders moving behind him. He felt Anders' cock push at the ring of muscle, and then push in, Anders gripping his hips.

It hurt, even to his slightly intoxicated mind, and when his whimper sounded more like pain, Anders didn't move for a minute, until Mitchell mumbled to continue on. Anders's hips snapped against his and then he continued thrusting, slowly at first, and then harder and faster. It occurred to Mitchell that like himself, Anders had probably never done this with another man, although something told him that the blond knew what he was doing somewhat.

They fell into silence, Anders thrusting into Mitchell, and for a while, Mitchell felt almost nothing. And then, Anders moved in just the right way and Mitchell cried out, a stream of curses falling from his lips. Anders' hand snaked around Mitchell's waist, finding Mitchell's cock, and moving up and down it, his thumb flicking the tip every so often.

"Fuck," Mitchell moaned as Anders hit the same spot again and pleasure surged through his body. "Fuck, don't stop," he panted, arching his back slightly.

Anders' hand moved faster on Mitchell's cock and he thrust even faster, both of them crying out and moaning, the sounds filling the room. A familiar tightening had built up in the pit of Mitchell's stomach, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. If the desperate sounds that Anders was making as his hips sped up were anything to go by, Anders was going to last even less time.

"Fuck. Fuck, I think I'm going to come," Anders moaned, his hips jerking even faster.

With a few more quick thrusts, Anders gasped and his hips jerked wildly, his hand stopping but not falling away from Mitchell, who cried out as ropes of white fluid streamed from him, shooting mostly onto his arm, but some hitting his face and leaking all over Anders' hand.

They collapsed like that, Anders face buried into Mitchell's back, both of them breathing heavily. They stayed that way for a long while, until Anders pulled out and fell into a heap next to Mitchell, who had groggily curled into a ball. Anders finally spoke up. "Don't go running off tomorrow if you wake up first," he muttered.

"You have to take me to get my car," Mitchell murmured.

"Good. I want to do this again, not drunk," Anders slurred, standing up and heading into the bathroom. He came back in pajama pants, and a shirt fell on Mitchell's face. "Put that on," he said. "Just in case someone wanders in here tomorrow," he clarified.

Mitchell weakly put the shirt on and crawled under the covers, his eyes fluttering shut. Anders joined him, his back meeting Mitchell's. After a while, his breathing slowed and he fell asleep. Mitchell, however laid awake for a while, brooding.

He hadn't attacked Anders. Anders was very much alive next to him. And Mitchell had no desire still to attack him, or even to drink his blood. He'd found someone that he could sleep with without the worry of attacking. He'd had sex. Drunken, messy, glorious sex, and he hadn't killed. and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

* * *

A/N:

This is meant to have a slow build, but do not despair- smut will be had, friendships will be built and secrets will be revealed! It's all in good time, my dear friends.

This is the first smut I've ever written by myself and if you follow me on tumblr, you've probably seen the panic that it has caused. Mitchell and Anders muses simply didn't want to cooperate and seemed to like the kissing more than the sex.

This story takes place about 7 months after Mitchell leaves Wales, and just after Anders gets back from Norway- but before Axl's hospitalization.

Besides that, you'll find out basic facts as the story progresses, but most importantly: Anders "Bragi Powers" have limited affect on Mitchell. He might be able to talk Mitchell think Mitchell very much wants to do, or very small tasks, but he can't use them like he does on Dawn or the myriad of women who have been in his bed.

Also, it should be known that you can request things you want to see in terms of the sexy times, but I might not use them.

also for those who read Moving On, I'mm working on it, I swear! I'm just reeeeeaallly blocked.


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